


unspoken

by brokentombstone



Series: Jonsa Drabblefest 2020 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokentombstone/pseuds/brokentombstone
Summary: A bitter rationalization.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jonsa Drabblefest 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724257
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> prompts: campfire/linger

Sansa sat and stared at the dying embers of a smoldering fire. It was too cold to stay out here but she hadn’t thought she could go anywhere else. After her argument with Jon she had been wrecked and unable to face anyone else so she had withdrawn to this far off fire.

They would fight Ramsay tomorrow and she had argued with Jon instead of telling him about the Vale. But she couldn’t depend on that, she couldn’t have Jon depending on that. No, Jon needed to fight as hard as he could and if Littlefinger came through then he would understand later. She had to believe that.

Yet Jon’s promise had implanted itself in her mind. ‘I won’t ever let him touch you again.’ It had felt…possessive. But not in a way that shrank Sansa as it did with Littlefinger, Joffrey, or Ramsay. No, when Jon had spoken the words it had stirred something inside her and she didn’t know what to make of it. 

But she did know that, despite the circumstances, she felt safe. She believed in Jon, her anger at him arose out of fear and not true doubt. 

Sansa looked up then across the encampment and saw a figure making their way through the many tents set up. It took her only a few seconds. Jon.

He stopped some twenty feet from her and noticed her, her face illuminated by the fire, giving her a glow and making her flaming hair dance, as if it were alive with sparks itself. He seems, for a moment, on the verge of saying something, calling out to her or that perhaps he will come over but she can see him physically stop himself, maybe thinking better of it.

Instead he raises his hand to her, nods his head once and pierces her with a look she would not soon forget. She raises her hand in turn and lets the smallest smile creep onto her face, looking almost wicked in the light of the fire. 

Then Jon is turning away and walking into another tent and Sansa is alone again. 

But his presence, his promise. It remains. It lingers on every part of her and for one heartstopping moment she imagines Jon pushing her up against the table in the war room and kissing her at the end of their argument, enveloping her in a passionate embrace.

She rises from the fire, pushes off into the snow and shoves the thought down into the depths of her mind. Such fanciful and devious longings will do her no good here, it can never be. Even if it was, what kind of sick person would think such thoughts of her brother. (Cersei, her mind chants).

So Sansa heads to her tent and leaves the fire to burn out with Jon’s name hovering in the back of her mind. (And if part of her thinks that maybe she wouldn’t mind being wicked then she doesn’t let it see the light).


End file.
